


Slapshot

by ereshai



Series: Check, Please! 13 Days of Halloween 2016 [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 13 Days of Halloween, Angst, Gen, Minor Character Death, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: Everyone knows what to do about zombies, even if there's no such thing.





	1. Chapter 1

It happened during practice.

One moment, Holster was getting ready to step out onto the ice so they could start running drills and the next, someone had grabbed him from behind, pulling his jersey taut against his throat. He gave a strangled yell and wrenched free, falling to his knees on the ice. He scrambled to his feet and swiveled around just in time to face his attacker.

It was Coach Hall.

“Coach-“ Holster began, and then Coach was on him, half lunging, half falling. His eyes were sunken and filmy and his lips looked purply-blue on his too pale face. Holster shoved at his chest and Coach grabbed his arm and tried to bite him.

“Shit! Zombie, he’s a fucking zombie!” Holster skated backward, trying to yank his arm out of Coach’s grip. Coach held on, skidding and stumbling across the ice.

“What’s going on?” Holster heard Jack ask. “Coach, what the hell?”

“Get him off me,” Holster yelled. He kept trying to pull free as Coach kept trying to take a chunk out of his arm. He finally remembered the hockey stick in his hand and swung it up, striking Coach upside the head. It had little effect.

“Look out!” Ransom called out and then he was there, slamming into Coach and knocking him to the ice.

Holster, finally free, almost fell again but managed to stay upright. “Don’t go near him,” he warned Ransom. “Everyone stay back.”

The rest of the team skated closer, stopping a good distance away from where Coach Hall was slipping and sliding on his hands and knees as he tried to stand up.

“What’s wrong with Coach?” Bitty asked.

“He just tried to bite me. I think he’s…” Holster paused, suddenly doubting what he’d seen. “I think he’s a zombie.”

“Holster,” Shitty said carefully, “there’s no such thi-“

“You think I don’t know that, Shitty? His face was two inches from mine. I was looking a dead man right in the face, and he _tried to eat me_. That sounds like a zombie to me.”

Everyone studied Coach Hall in silence as he kept trying to regain his feet. He hadn’t made a sound during the entire confrontation.

“What should we do?” Chowder asked, his normally cheerful voice subdued.

“We can’t just leave him here,” Holster said, but he couldn’t bring himself to say what had to be done. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Kill the brain, kill the zombie,” Nursey said unexpectedly. “We’ve all seen the movies.”

“Zombies, really?” Dex said, skeptical. “No offense to Holster, but we just went from zero to ‘let’s kill our coach because he’s a zombie’ in less than a minute based only on what he said he saw.”

“You think I don’t know how this sounds?” Holster growled.

“I’m going to check on him,” Jack said suddenly and started skating toward Coach.

“Jack, no,” Bitty protested, but Jack was already squatting in front of the flailing man.

Coach grabbed for Jack and Jack held him off with his hockey stick, pushing himself backward in the process. He skated back to the team.

“I think Holster’s right,” was all he said. Holster heaved a sigh.

“Maybe we should call the police,” Chowder said, his voice still small and quiet.

“I’ll get my phone,” Bitty said quickly and he sprinted for the bench. He threw off his gloves and dialed quickly, holding the phone up to his ear. “The call’s not going through, y’all,” he said after a moment.

“Campus security,” Ransom said, but Bitty was already dialing.

“Busy signal,” he said after another long pause. Outside, they could hear the muffled sound of sirens beginning to wail.

“Okay, let’s assume we’re in a full-on zombie apocalypse,” Holster said. “We have to… we have to take care of this ourselves. And then we get the hell out of here and find a safe place to figure out what to do next.”

“You sure about what you saw, Jacky?” Shitty said to Jack, and Jack nodded. “Then I guess we’re doing this.” He looked at each one of them and they all nodded in agreement.

“So what, we just beat him to death with our hockey sticks?” Bitty asked. “What is this, Lord of the Flies?” Nursey skated to the edge of the rink and slumped against the glass.

“I think-“ Ransom started to say, but Jack interrupted him.

“I’ll do it,” he said grimly. “Get me some pucks.”

It took a few seconds for the rest of them to catch on. Everyone else went to round up some pucks while Bitty went over to Jack and put his hand on his arm. “It doesn’t have to be you. Not just you,” he said quietly.

“I’m the most accurate. I don’t…” he paused and swallowed, “I don’t want it to take too many tries.”

Bitty nodded and stood with him while the rest of the team skated back with dozens of pucks.

“Dex, Chowder, why don’t y’all go check on Nursey?” Bitty said gently and the boys skated away almost gratefully.

“Stand back,” Jack said. He lined up his shot, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he swung his stick, sending the puck flying straight at Coach Hall’s head.

After, they all scrambled off the ice as fast as they could. They didn’t look back.

“Did we do the right thing?” Holster said, but nobody had an answer.


	2. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has to decide what to do next.

In the locker room, they changed without making eye contact or talking to each other. It was just the team – they hadn’t seen anyone else since before they’d gone out on the ice, an ominous fact in light of what had just happened.

As each player finished getting dressed, they waited by their stalls, eyeing the doors, which had been locked, with dread. They couldn't usually hear anything from the rest of the building unless there was a game crowd, but now that lack of noise was pressing down on them. Anything could be out there.

"We need something to defend ourselves with." Holster’s voice was loud in the silence. Several of them flinched.

"Hockey sticks," Ransom said, almost a question.

"For now," Jack said with a nod. "I’m not sure how they’ll hold up. They aren’t really meant for... you know."

“We could tape two together,” Dex suggested.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Nobody moved.

“Okay,” Bitty said. “The rack is practically right outside the door. We can just go on out and grab them and be back in here quick as anything if there’s trouble.”

“There are too many of us,” Jack said. “A few of us can go out and grab an armful. Maybe a couple of others to keep watch.”

“Good idea,” Ollie said. “So who’s gonna do it?”

“I’ll go,” Shitty said.

Ransom grasped his hockey stick. “I’ll stand watch.” His face was grim.

Holster took a deep breath. “I’m with you, bro.”

Ransom reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

“So that’s me and Shitty on stick detail,” Jack said. “One more will be enough, I think.”

Bitty opened his mouth to volunteer just as Dex spoke up. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll hold the door open,” Chowder said.

After a short discussion of the plan, Jack squared his shoulders and headed for the door. He opened it slowly, sticking his head out to check down the hallway both ways. Then he stepped out into the hall. Ransom and Holster were next, taking up positions close by but out of the way. Shitty and Dex filed out and Chowder held the door, standing out of the way to keep the doorway clear. The rest of the team crowded as close as they could, trying to see out.

“All y’all don’t have to be standing there,” Bitty said. “We need to gather up the stick tape. C’mon now.”

They’d barely started stacking all the stick tape they could find in the stalls on the benches when Dex, Shitty, and Jack came hurrying back in, their arms full of hockey sticks, which they let clatter to the floor. Ransom and Holster came next, Holster backing in with his stick held out in front of him. As soon as he was in, Chowder closed the door and locked it.

“What is it?” Bitty asked. “Was it… was it one _them_?”

“No, no,” Holster replied. He was breathing hard as if he’d just come off the ice. “Just got a little creeped out.”

“We didn’t see anything,” Ransom added.

“I thought I heard something,” Holster said. “In Coach’s office.”

“Coach Murray?” Chowder asked. “Should we go see?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Holster said.

“He could be hurt,” Chowder protested.

“There’s nothing we can do for him,” Holster said. “If he’s in there, he’s either one of them or he’s going to be. That’s how it works.”

“As far as we know,” Nursey muttered.

“Are we sure about this?” Dex asked. “What if we find out that everything’s fine? That we just killed Coach Hall while he was having a seizure or something?”

“That’s on me,” Jack said, his voice low. “I’m the one who… I made a decision and if it was the wrong one, I’ll pay for it.”

“I’m the one who told everyone he was a zombie,” Holster added. “If I made a mistake, that’s on me, too.”

“We won’t know until we get out of here and find some help,” Bitty said. “Or maybe… I’ll try calling campus security and the police again.”

Bitty grabbed his phone. It didn’t take long for both calls not to go through, and on a whim he tried other numbers – Lardo, the pizza place he always ordered from, even his mother. Nothing connected. By the time he put his phone away, the rest of the team had gotten their sticks from the pile on the floor and were taping them together.

“No luck,” Bitty said when he noticed Jack looking at him. “But it might just be a weak signal. It’s not always great in here.”

Jack nodded and tossed him a roll of tape. “Better get started taping your sticks, then.”

“Oh, I am a fool!” Bitty pulled his phone out again. “I guess I was just so rattled, I didn’t even think.” He tapped the Twitter icon on the screen and waited for his feed to load.

“Is this really the time-“ Jack began.

“If something’s going on, there will be people talking about it online. Yes, look here.” Bitty pointed out a tweet from Samwell Campus News. “They’re advising everyone on campus to find a safe place and stay there. They don’t say why, just that it’s an emergency situation. Oh, but here’s one from David from my GSA meetings. He’s saying zombies. So are a lot of folks.” He scrolled through his feed. “Oh my Lord. Even my cousin Sarah June down in Atlanta. And Billy from my old team, he’s in Montana now. There’s people retweeting stuff from all over. It’s not just here at Samwell.” Bitty lowered his phone.  “This really is happening, y’all.”

At that point, the rest of the team seemed to remember they too had phones and pulled them out to check for themselves. Nursey, his eyes squeezed tight, had his phone up to his ear. Holster slumped down on the bench, his head in his hands. Jack ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

“Should we just stay here, then?” he asked nobody in particular.

“Someplace safe, this says,” Wicky said.

“How safe are we here?” Dex said. “Here in this room, sure, but we don’t know who or what is in the rest of the building. How long will we have to stay? We should find a better place.”

“So where is safe? Going outside sure as hell isn’t,” Olson said. “If we wait, the cops or the Army or whoever will have everything under control and we won’t have to worry about any of this.”

“How long?” Dex snarled.

“What?” Olson blinked at Dex’s anger.

“How long before ‘the cops or the Army or whoever’ get around to helping us?”

Olson shrugged.

“Maybe they’ll be able to take care of this quickly, but maybe it’ll take a few days. Or weeks. Maybe they won’t be able to take care of it at all. Do you really want to stay here until we’re rescued?”

“At least we would be alive.” Several people nodded at Olson’s words.

“Sure, if it only takes a few days. What are you planning to do for food once the stuff in the vending machines is gone? What happens when the electricity and water stop working? We all know how this could play out.” Several others nodded in agreement with Dex.

“Sure, in movies. This is real life, so this shit will get taken care of. But whatever, man, leave if you want to. I’m staying here, where it’s _safe_.”

“Mom,” Nursey yelled suddenly. “Mom, can you hear me?”

Everyone turned to look at him. He had his phone pressed to one ear and a hand covering the other one.

“Mom?” He pulled the phone away and glared at it, then jabbed at it several times. “I can’t get through,” he muttered.

“I agree with Dex,” Jack said quietly. “This isn’t the best place to wait this out. We should go. Now, before there are even more z- zombies to deal with.”

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Shitty agreed. “I’m with you, brah.”

“That’s just your opinion,” Tucker said. He was standing next to Olson. “There’s a higher chance of getting killed if we leave than dying of starvation or thirst if we stay. Leaving is stupid.”

“Enough!” All eyes turned to Bitty and he shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “We’re not going to agree on what to do, I guess. So whoever wants to stay can stay, and the rest of us will go.” People started to grumble and Bitty held up a hand. “Obviously we aren’t going to make people leave if they don’t want to go. But if someone wants to go, y’all better let ‘em without making a big fuss about it.”

“Who put you in charge?” Tucker said with a sneer.

Holster took a step toward him, but Bitty held up a hand to stop him. “This isn’t about being in charge, it’s about using the sense God gave us. We don’t know what the best thing to do is, so we have to decide for ourselves. I thought we were all adults here.”

“What if some of us don’t like either option?” Randall piped up.

“For the love of... The options are stay or go, so I don’t really see what else you plan to do, Randy. Are you waiting on the Rapture or something?”

“Knock it off, Randy,” Dex barked. “You’re wasting time. Bitty’s got the right idea, so let’s just do this.”

“What’s up your ass, Poindexter? Why do you want to leave so bad?” Olson glared at Dex, who just shook his head.

“Stay group over there, leave group over here,” Jack said, pointing at either side of the locker room as he spoke.

The team shuffled around, dividing into two groups; the stay group was smaller than the leave group, but not by much. Only two people hadn’t picked a side – Randall and Nursey. Randall was looking at the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Nursey was still messing with his phone and wasn’t paying attention to any of them.

“Pick one or the other, Randy,” Ransom said. “Bitty’s right, these are the only options.”

Randall shrugged.

“You have to pick,” Olson said. “I don’t want to go out there, and neither should you. Any of you,” he added, glaring around the room at the team.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” Randy said, his head bowed.

“Nursey, what about you, man? You staying or going?”

Nursey looked up from his phone. “What? Leave me alone.” He turned away, his attention back on his screen.

“Looks like he’s staying, too,” Olson said with a smirk. “Unless you really want to drag him along. So that’s settled. Feel free to leave any time, _y’all_.”

Jack shrugged. “You’re getting what you want, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” He turned to the group behind him. “Okay, make sure your sticks are taped together securely, then gear up. Helmets, shoulder pads, gloves. Everyone should have long sleeves, so wear your jersey if you have to.”

Bitty hurried to tape his sticks together. “Why do they feel so flimsy, even doubled up?” he muttered to Jack.

Jack sighed and nodded. “It’s just for now. We’ll find something better as soon as we can.”

“Jack?” It was Chowder. He was carrying his goalie stick. “I don’t think taping my sticks together will work.”

“I’ll think it’ll be okay as it is,” Jack told him after some thought. “It’s just for a while.”

Chowder nodded. “Okay. But my gloves?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Your blocker might come in handy, but your catcher...”

“You may have to make do with just the one,” Bitty said hesitantly.

“Or we can find an extra one around here that will fit,” Jack added.

Chowder just shook his head. He was wearing his chest armor; the bulk of it made him look small somehow. He went back to the bench and slumped down on it next to Shitty, who was staring at the far wall and chewing on his lower lip. Ransom and Holster stood nearby, leaning into each other.

Bitty put his gear on and looked around. Everyone else was standing around, ready to go, except for Dex, who was talking to Nursey.

“Nursey, we’re heading out. You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Nursey waved a hand vaguely at him. He was staring at his phone.

“Nursey?”

“Hey, no making a fuss, remember?” Olson taunted.

“He never made a choice,” Dex snarled. “So I’m going to fucking talk to my fucking d-man partner, got it?”

Tucker yanked Olson back and Dex turned back to Nursey.

“Nursey, we’re leaving now, okay? Nursey?” He raised his voice. “Derek?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Nursey said without looking up. “See ya.”

Dex shook his head. “Fine. Goodbye.” He walked over to Chowder and stood there, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Okay,” Jack began. Everyone crowded around him. “Since we don’t know how many of them might be in the building, we’re going to get outside as quickly as possible, where it’ll be easier to outrun them. That means we’re heading for the docks. Got it?”

There was a chorus of yeses.

Chowder raised his hand. "Where are we going?” he asked. “Once we get outside, I mean."

Nobody answered for a long time, until Shitty finally said, "The Haus? Unless anyone has a better idea."

Jack shrugged. "It'll do for a place to start. Everyone ready?" He looked around at the small group. No one answered, but a few people nodded at him. "Let's go, then." He squared his shoulders. “Remember, we stick together, watch each other’s backs, we all try to make it to the Haus. Then we figure out the next step. Agreed?”

Everyone nodded. Jack unlocked the door and they headed out, turning down the hallway that would take them to the docks. Bitty looked back at the group who had chosen to stay. A few of them, especially Tucker and Olson, looked angry, but most of them just looked worried and scared. Bitty raised a hand in farewell and let the door close behind him. The click of the lock sounded very loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to jumpstart my writing mojo, I decided to start doing a regular Check, Please! zombie apocalypse series (since my regular Harry Potter zombie apocalypse series has been the only thing I've been writing consistently). I found a list of one word prompts, randomly generated a number, and set out to write at least 500 words of SMH and zombies based on that one word. Almost 2400 words later, here's Chapter 2 of Slapshot. Oops?  
> Anyway, expect more on a semi-regular basis - I may even stick to my self-imposed 500 word count target. :)


	3. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting out of the building isn't as easy as it sounds.

“Let’s go,” Jack said in a low voice. As they walked down the hall, every rustle of clothing and scrape of a shoe seemed magnified. Someone was breathing too fast.

As they passed the coaches’ office, they could hear an occasional thump. Then there was a loud thud on the door and Ollie, who was right in front of it, shied away. A few of them exchanged looks, but they didn’t stop moving, especially when a long drawn out moan started up on the other side. As muffled as it was, it still echoed off the bare walls. Several of them covered their ears; no one suggested they check on Coach Murray.

Ransom and Holster fell to the back of the group, taking up positions on either side of Bitty. “We’ll keep a look out behind us,” Holster whispered to him.

Just then they passed the office door and there was another loud thud. The three of them jumped and Bitty moved a little faster, his shoulders hunched. Ransom kept shooting looks behind them, but nothing was there. Ahead of them, the rest of the team was rounding the corner, heading toward the docks.

The loading dock area was dim, the concrete walls seeming to swallow the light. Every unusual noise – and every noise was unusual – had them looking around, ready for another attack. The bay doors were shut, but there was a heavy metal door with an EXIT sign over it off to one side. They crowded close.

“Once we’re out, we can’t get back in,” Jack said in a low voice. “Last chance to stay.”

Everyone exchanged looks with those closest to them.

“Would they let us back in?” Ollie asked. “Tucker and Olson were being major dicks about us leaving.”

“It’s too late to change our minds. Let’s just go,” Ransom said.

Jack nodded, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. The _ka-chunk_ of the pushbar was loud. Jack hurried out and held the door open, looking around the lot to see if anything was waiting to attack them.

“Go,” he said, his voice low and intense.

Holster came out first, hurrying down the steps to take up a lookout position. The rest of the team followed, jostling each other in their haste.

“Shit,” Ransom shouted from the back of the group. “Go, go, go!”

“Fuck,” someone yelled. “A fucking zombie!”

The players still inside pressed forward, yelling incoherently. Someone stumbled, knocking into Jack. Jack grabbed him and hauled him upright, then shoved him toward the stairs. “Not all at once! Someone help Ransom!”

Ransom was holding off the zombie, shoving it back with his taped-up hockey sticks every time it came close. He was crowded against his fleeing teammates and had no room to swing at it. “Move! Move!”

“Ransom,” Holster yelled from outside. He climbed up the outside of the steps, pulling himself up by the railing. “Get the fuck out of my way! Let me get through! Justin!”

“You can’t get in.” Jack yanked another player through the door and toward the steps. “Take care of the others.”

_Thwack_. Chowder hit the zombie in the side of the head. It stumbled back and he hit it again. Ransom stepped forward and hit it from the other side. They kept at it, knocking it to the floor and keeping it down while everyone got through the door.

“Ransom, Chowder, let’s go!” Jack called.

Ransom knocked it over onto its back one more time. “Go,” he said as they backed away from it, and Chowder turned and ran out the door, Ransom right behind him.

Jack let go of the door and it slowly began to swing shut. Jack pushed it, trying to get it to close faster. Inside, the zombie was getting up again. The door finally thunked shut as the zombie started walking toward him.

“We have to go,” Jack said. “There’s no way to block the door. It won’t take much to open it from the inside.”

“That was Mr. Petelli, the rink manager,” Chowder said softly. There were tears on his cheeks. “He drove the Zamboni.”

Dex put a hand on Chowder’s shoulder. “It wasn’t him anymore,” he whispered and swiped his forearm across his face.

There was a thud on the door. Everyone jumped and turned to look at it. It didn’t open.

“We have to go. Now.” Jack headed for the street, running – fleeing – and the rest of the team followed.


	4. Fake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team heads for the Haus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After an unintentional hiatus, here's the next chapter. Yay?

After their initial burst of speed, the team settled into a more measured pace. If it wasn’t for the various bits of hockey equipment they were wearing and the sticks they were carrying, they almost could have been out for a morning jog.

Almost. As early as it was, there still should have been people crossing North Quad on their way to their 8 am classes. Instead, they were alone, the thud of their footsteps the only sound. Even the birds were silent.

The wail of a siren split the air, causing many of them to startle and stumble. The noise went on and on; it wasn’t a vehicle siren, but some sort of old air-raid siren. They ran faster, down Bristol, over the bridge and then past River Street. They spotted a few faces in the windows of buildings as they passed, but no one outside of them.

The siren and the eerie emptiness of the street set them all on edge. Bitty chanced a look over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see anything behind him but his teammates. Holster, at the back of the group, caught his eye and shook his head slightly.

They turned onto Jason Street; the Haus was within sight now. Up ahead, they could see someone walking toward them. The person didn’t have the slow, slightly off-balance walk of a zombie, but Jack slowed his pace anyway, coming to a stop only a few feet away from him. The rest of the team followed suit.

“This is un-fucking-believable,” the person said, his voice loud in the stillness. They all recognized him; he was on the lacrosse team.

“Fucking Chad,” Shitty muttered.

“Of course you hockey dicks fell for that zombie bullshit,” Chad said with a sneer.

“It’s not bullshit,” Jack told him. “We saw…” He shook his head. “It’s for real. You should get to safety.”

“And what, use my crosse to defend myself?” Chad rolled his eyes. “I’ll get right on that. Fucking idiots. It’s _fake_ , do you get that? Like that radio broadcast about an alien invasion a long time ago.”

“Have you looked online at all?” Bitty asked. “It’s all over Twitter and-“

“Oh, well, if it was on _Twitter_.” Chad smiled nastily.

“Never mind, Bittle,” Jack said quietly. “We can’t do anything if he doesn’t want to listen.” He raised his voice a little. “Let’s go, we’re almost there.”

“That’s right, run home,” Chad said, “or the big bad zombies might get you.” He stood aside and swept out his arm as if to show them which way to go.

The team jogged past him, ignoring his mocking laughter. Ransom and Holster shook their heads at him, but no one tried to convince him of the truth. Once they were past, he walked away, whistling an aimless tune.

They reached the Haus in about half a minute. Jack and Shitty raced up onto the porch, Shitty digging frantically in his pocket for the key to the front door, while the rest of them waited on the lawn, their tense gazes on the street and houses around them.

Shitty fumbled with the key in the lock and the door finally opened.

“Everyone in,” Jack commanded, and they all practically leapt up the porch steps and through the door, colliding with each other in their effort to get inside. Bitty was almost knocked off his feet. “Easy there,” Jack said as he caught Bitty’s arm and hauled him upright. They waited together until everyone was inside, then hurried after. Shitty slammed the door and turned the lock.

They slumped wherever there was room – the stairs, against the walls, on the floor – trying to catch their breath. Nobody said anything for a long time.

Finally, Dex broke the silence. “What now?”


End file.
